


Sunlight

by TikTak



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TikTak/pseuds/TikTak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poland has been rescued and thanks his savior with tea. Only it doesn't look like it sounds and everything goes not as planned, but in the end maybe it's better that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Eastern Europe fest](http://easterneurofunk.livejournal.com/)! This time free of mistakes thanks to my lo-Ve <3

Poland looked down at his completely soaked sneakers and wiggled his toes. His feet were so cold he almost didn’t feel them anymore, except for the fact that they were freezing. In his haste to get out of the rain he had walked right into a puddle — and one that was conveniently placed right under the only sort of a roof around.  
  
Maybe he would be mad at himself for not looking where he was going, but, well, wet sneakers were probably better than wet everything, and could anyone blame him for running like a madman anyway? The day had been warm and sunny thus far, and the rain started pouring with furious determination almost at once, without any phases in-between. For god’s sake, the sun was still actually _shining_. That was so terribly unfair.  
  
Poland sighed and contemplated his shoes some more. It was really the most uncomfortable. If he knew the neighborhood he’d consider abandoning his rain-free spot to find a place that'd be completely dry, but alas.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have gone all alone, but how _could_ he not after Ukraine barged into the house with her arms full of bags of different shapes and sizes, talking excitedly about one of the many street markets in Riga that she found, full of cheap and wonderful stuff? That alone was a temptation, but when she started to actually show off what she got — well, Poland was searching for exactly that kind of scarf as the one she had bought, if in a slightly different color. And she said there had been one. Possibly-probably-"I'm so sorry I didn't take a better look around!" the very last one. And then, knowing that, how could he stay?  
  
But no one, of course, wanted to go with him. Lithuania had claimed a headache (seriously; Poland, like, so threw him a look). Russia had been slightly drunk and progressively getting rid of the "slightly" part, thinking that their host hadn’t noticed, even when said host considered it a silent challenge and started to race oblivious Russia himself. Estonia had declared he had to stay to look after them both, but Poland knew he just shut himself in his room with his laptop. Ukraine had vanished with her bags and after some pouting Poland had grudgingly accepted that she might possibly be tired, and Belarus — Poland hadn't even looked for her.  
  
 _That's how much you can count on people here_ , Poland thought, miserable and furious all at once. _Meaning that you can not. If Hungary was here…_  
  
But she wasn't, of course, busy with Austria or something else. Czechia and Slovakia had both decided to skip the happy get-together as well, for reasons Poland didn't care about at first, but now decided were absolutely no excuse, whatever they were.  
  
So it was only him, his new fabulous scarf tucked safely under his t-shirt, and the persistent tap-tap-tap of the rain.  
  
And the wet squelch of his shoes when he shifted from one foot to the other.  
  
"Seriously," he muttered, closing his eyes and feeling just very unhappy about his life in general, the scarf only the tiniest bit of comfort at the moment. He was so absorbed in his self-pity that he didn't hear anyone approach and when he opened his eyes again, only to find Belarus's unimpressed face no more than two meters from where he stood. He actually jumped with a gasp, splashing the water around.  
  
"Uh," he said, more shocked than anything.  
  
Belarus's stare turned murderous and he realized that he had splashed her as well. She was holding a pink umbrella — Poland took a double take here, but yeah, she _was_ — and had been probably completely dry, her ankles included, until Poland ruined that.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she demanded in a typical Belarus way, somehow managing to convey that he'd better start explaining now or _else_ , and making it sound like she didn't care one way or another about what the actual answer was going to be.  
  
"Uh," Poland said again, because he just— he needed a moment, right? It was pretty unexpected to put it mildly and— yeah.  
  
When his thoughts cleared up a bit he grinned the widest possible grin, feeling positively ecstatic. "Oh my god. I think I love you."  
  
A scowl was the only reply he got, but he didn't care, he was already busy moving forward and taking cover under Belarus's wonderful pink umbrella.  
  
"What are you doing?!" she hissed, quite predictably, but didn't push him away, shove her elbow in his gut, or anything otherwise painful, so it was good. Poland counted it as a victory anyway.  
  
"Keeping you company," he said, not missing a beat, and — didn't quite dare to position Belarus's hand holding the umbrella in a way more beneficial to him. But he wished for it to move very, very badly.  
  
And because he apparently just got some mind-control powers, it did.  
  
Before there could be anything else said, Belarus started walking, at once setting a quick pace — Poland barely managed to follow in time to keep himself safe from the rain.  
  
"Hey! You could've—"  
  
There really wasn't many things that could make Poland shut up, but some of the most heated glares by Belarus certainly did the trick.  
  
They walked in the direction of a bus stop that'd take them back to Latvia's place, neither of them uttering a single word. The silence was not exactly heavy, but uncomfortable anyway. Poland kept his scarf under his t-shirt, in case Belarus decided to suddenly bolt and leave him in the rain after all (what maybe wasn't very likely, but one never knew with her), and desperately willed himself to not feel awkward.  
  
Thankfully he got distracted by the umbrella soon enough, and once he started thinking about it, he couldn't stop. Unable to keep his curiosity in check any longer, he tapped his knuckles against the handle, right above Belarus's hand.  
  
"It's," he started, thought again of what he wanted to say — which was an accomplishment, Liet would be proud — and finally settled on, "pretty cute."  
  
Belarus's voice sounded neutral, which probably meant she was pleased. "It's brother's. He told me to take it in case of rain."  
  
Oh, of course it was Russia's. Of course Poland had to be rescued by Belarus wielding Russia's umbrella. Of course Russia had creepy weather-forecasting powers and could foresee a sudden, violent rain on a perfectly sunny day _and didn't bother to tell him_.  
  
Sullen, Poland moved closer to Belarus's side, escaping the drops of water that weren't as heavy as before, but starting to fall at a wider angle, hitting his legs. The sun hid itself completely and everything around was gray and just sort of depressing. Belarus tensed beside him, her mouth set in a straight, unhappy line.  
  
It wasn't as if Poland wanted to get all in her space, but it was better than getting wet, so there.  
  
This time the silence _was_ heavy, and when Poland pressed a little closer again, Belarus stopped abruptly.  
  
"If you get me wet," she said pleasantly, "I'll rip your fingers off and feed you them one by one."  
  
"Wow." This time he was the one to glare, even though his heart hammered in his chest — Belarus knew how to deliver her threats. "Aren't you just like, challenging the weather in niceness right now?"  
  
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and her lips actually twitched. "Just trying to see what you'll end up choosing."  
  
Poland spluttered, half surprised that she suddenly decided to tease him, half just totally indignant because that wasn't _fair_.  
  
He didn't say anything more, though, what soon ended up not being the brightest idea. It was just— it was boring, so boring, and after discovering the mystery of Belarus's pink umbrella there really wasn't anything interesting any longer. He was familiar enough with Riga to not look around in wonder, and besides they weren't anywhere near the city centre, so there were only blocks and other usual buildings like that around.  
  
He busied himself with contemplating Belarus's hair instead, since she gathered it around her shoulder close to his side, so it wouldn't get wet. It was nice hair, he supposed, and looked soft. Pity Belarus didn't do anything fancy with it often, mostly just letting it loose. She should try doing something more fun, really, let it get a little artistically messy or something.  
  
While he wondered whether it was worth it to share his fabulous ideas aloud, they made it over to the bus stop and to the board with the schedule. Belarus narrowed her eyes at it and Poland didn't even need to look himself to know what was up.  
  
It wasn't as if Belarus would actually tell him, though, so he read the time. "Thirty minutes?!" he exclaimed, painfully aware of just how cold and wet his feet were. "You've gotta be kidding me. Oh come on!"  
  
He looked around desperately, and yes, thank heavens — at least _there_ was something good. Right on the other side of the street he could see what looked like a little restaurant. The banner above the door let them know that it was _Janis's Place_.  
  
Maybe not very imaginative, but good enough for him at the moment. Before he knew what he was doing, he hooked his arm around Belarus's and tugged her across the street.  
  
"There's like, no way I'm staying here that long," he said quickly when she started protesting and threatening another one of his important body parts. "I'll totally buy you tea, just _please_."  
  
Belarus shook his arm off, but didn't seem as angry as she could have. "Fine."  
  
And, well. That was something.  
  
The restaurant, if it could be called that, was a really tiny place; Poland almost walked right into a table the moment they entered. There was no more than five tables around, too, put so closely together that maneuvering around them was a struggle. Each tablecloth was different, but colorful all the same, the fabric thick and in various patterns, and there was a vase with a flower on every table.  
  
Most importantly, though, was that it was warm and empty, if one didn't count an older man by the window who seemed to be soundly asleep. All of that made the place feel impossibly cozy and homely, and Poland thought he might melt from happiness right there.  
  
He claimed a chair for himself while Belarus struggled with the umbrella, and just when she sat down too, across from him and throwing him another hard look, a woman appeared from behind the counter. He asked for two teas in a daze, struggling under the table to slide his shoes off, using only his feet. It was totally hard, but when the woman walked away, he was free of his soaked sneakers, and stretching his toes with relief.  
  
After a bit he finally took his scarf out, smoothing it down on his knees. It was rumpled, but it was easily fixable, and he once again admired the deep crimson color until he noticed Belarus watching him.  
  
He raised his head and grinned. He felt far better than moments ago; his bare feet were resting and warming up, and the prospect of tea only made him more content. "So, what were you doing there anyway?"  
  
Belarus pursed her lips. "I asked you first."  
  
"Huh," Poland said since he couldn't remember, and was it so important anyway? He asked now, so she could as well reply. "Well?"  
  
But no, of course; Belarus only kept staring at him coolly and Poland pouted, realizing that if he wanted to talk he'd have to give in. "I was out to buy this. See?" He put his scarf on the table. "And it was like, the last one, so I was lucky I was so quick. Anyway, you'd totally know if you weren't hiding when I was looking for someone to come with me." He crossed his arms over his chest, to demonstrate how displeased he was. Not that he had planned on actually asking her, but she didn't have to know it.  
  
Even if, judging by her dubious look, she knew that anyway.  
  
And how did she even do _that_ , by the way? It's not like she was staring at him any differently than a moment ago, but somehow she could still convey the "I call bullshit" signal perfectly.  
  
"Soooo?" he asked again, drawing circles on the tabletop with his finger. Belarus waited before replying, just to be difficult, he was sure. When she opened her mouth at last, the woman from before appeared again, putting two green cups with streaming tea on their table.  
  
"Such a weather," she said conversationally, and didn't walk away as she'd done previously when she finished. "It's been this way for the past week." She threw a look down at Poland's bare feet, and his cheeks heated in response.  
  
He took a better look at her, too. She was a large, young woman, thirty at most. Her movements were quick and sure and her eyes alert, and though not unkind, she was actually sort of… scary, when she was giving him her full attention.  
  
"Um," he murmured, thinking desperately of anything else to say, and in his panic turning his gaze to Belarus. She actually looked amused, damn her, and he felt himself getting redder.  
  
"Looking at big sister for guidance?" the woman asked teasingly, and Poland gaped.  
  
Belarus beat him in protesting, though. "He's not my brother," she said, polite, but letting just enough displeasure to show on her face to make it clear what she thought of the idea.  
  
The woman only laughed at this, unperturbed, and waved her hand. "But family, right? I can feel those things. So, which is it exactly?" She looked at Poland again, and oh dear god, why couldn’t she just get a clue? Of course he _could_ … engage in the conversation, it wasn't like he couldn't or anything, he just really, really didn't feel like it and that was _it_. Why did she stare at him expectantly like that?  
  
And okay, maybe Poland got that a bit, since she looked like the energetic sort, and her place was empty and she probably had nothing to do before he and Belarus came in and hell, he'd _die_ of boredom if it were him.  
  
Still, she could've decided to pester Belarus instead.  
  
He could feel the embarrassment setting in, and it wasn't awkward anymore, just terribly uncomfortable. Before he blurted out something like "do you know there's a forest with fabulous crooked trees in Poland, have you thought of visiting?", Belarus clanked a spoon against her cup.  
  
"I think I'd like some cheesecake with that."  
  
With another laugh and some more comments about weather and the world in general, the woman walked away. Poland exhaled slowly and slumped down in his chair.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered, glancing at Belarus.  
  
She only scowled at him in reply, but it seemed half-hearted at best. "You are still going to pay for this."  
  
He shrugged and— started, when all of a sudden a golden light flooded the room. Belarus looked out the windows at the same time he did. It was still raining, but just barely, and the sun was low, making the light seem… rich, somehow, more intense than a moment ago.  
  
Poland didn't register how this happened, but when Belarus got her cake, there were no more attempts at idle talk or anything of the sort. They didn't really talk themselves either, just sat in silence, and somehow Poland even stole a piece of Belarus's cake and she didn't attack him with a fork for that.  
  
Five minutes before their bus was supposed to arrive, he reached to his belt wallet — which was like, a super awesome thing, by the way — and stilled when he looked at his shoes.  
  
They were still wet, of course, and the thought of putting them on alone made him shudder. And he'd actually like to get that cheesecake for himself, too, or maybe a cake with cherries. And he still had some tea left, and just…  
  
The problem with Belarus was that she was completely unpredictable, even worse than Russia. Poland would do or say something and she'd almost smile and then spend ten minutes scowling to convince the world she didn't; and then next time he did exactly the same thing she'd throw a shoe at him or something.  
  
Poland pondered that, and put his hand back on the table. But Belarus didn't react, didn't tell him to hurry up and pay already; didn't say anything, in fact, looking dispassionately at the flower sticking from the vase on their table, touching its red petals with her fingertips.  
  
She still didn't say anything when the bus arrived and left, and when Poland asked for a cake for himself and managed to survive a minute of forced conversation. Only when he started failing again she looked at him with dry amusement, and stepped in.


End file.
